


Golden Lion Red Lion

by bela013



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-29
Updated: 2012-09-29
Packaged: 2017-11-15 07:18:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/524634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bela013/pseuds/bela013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tywin could not find out how to have control of the red woman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Golden Lion Red Lion

**Author's Note:**

> Same AU setting as Red of Blood, Red of Lannister, most likely a follow up.

The shinny trinket that she gave me sat prettily in her lustrous bed, a bed she never used. Her whole room is Casterly Rock was a joke, for how useless it was for her. He could have got her logs to build a fire and she would be happier. But her happiness is none of my concern, even as only her presence could steal me power from all the corners of the Seven kingdoms, and the lands across the Narrow Sea. So it’s not with regret that I see a golden brush in her hand, working on her lustrous red hair.

He’d grown used to her ever lasting presence by his side, of the way his man shied away from her as much as they shied from him, with fear and respect in their eyes. Fear of a woman, who only sipped her goblet of wine as they dinned, of a woman who walked in small steps right behind him, his red shadow.

There were limitations place on her, forbidding her of forcing her religious talk into others, of threatening people, of ever disobeying him. And she followed them quite nicely, opting to persuade me to let her have her way, always nodding and whispering calm words into my ears, making me give her power. I wasn’t fooled by her sweet act, I saw the woman behind her mask, and I saw the witch turned priest behind that mask too.

It was all in plain sight to me, and I still sat on her bed, watching the golden brush clashed with her Lannister hair. The swell of her full breasts and the crock of her neck. A beautiful vixen, and a most useful tool. She smiled at me from the looking glass, not her girlish smile, but the one that is all fangs and anger, he could almost see the blood of her prey in them.

Rising to meet me, abandoning her place at the vanity desk, she doesn’t play with her food, she’s almost a lion too. She sits on my lap, straddling me, running her long fingernails on my chest.

Pulling her soft her, tangling it all over again, on my finger, I bared her pale neck, and bit where I feel her skin pulse. She doesn’t cry or screams, she one sink her claws at my chest.

I’m not a prey, not hers or anybody else’s, I’m not game. I am the lion of Lannister, and even if she  _is_  a lioness, I am still her king.


End file.
